Thursday, March 04, 2010


i live in an enclave called time. where outside is the future, and inside is the past. it's square as how the earth was once flat. it's horizontal like how the horizons are lined by our eyes. the view panorama is of the colors of the night in the north skies. no windows on the walls of this enclave, only doors.

i have been living inside forever now. never daring to go outside. ultimately, i am a creature of habit. clinging on to familiar things. small unnecessary things. when some consider ancient, i consider it nostalgia. when one consider it passe, i consider it the present. even when chance is outside, i am content here.

living like a recluse, reminded me constant. at the end when time collapses, i am alone. solitary tree. like the one outside beside that linear river. but, i travel in time invariably. moving forward. in perpetuum. to be this way, is my being; the time traveler. until time, as i see it crumbles.

i wrote with tears and anguish, pouring into the pages all the pain that life had meant to me - upton sinclair


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